


kyle is not useless

by orphan_account



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Life in the Horde (She-Ra), POV Outsider, canon? ha. what's that? i make the canon now, no editing we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kyle waits for the words to register, as Lonnie’s default response to him is more of a matter of reflex than it is of interest. They must, because after a moment she looks up at him and gapes.“What?”“I told you--”“Who? Who’s datin’?” She reaches out and shakes him. Kyle can’t get the words out for a minute, as he’s too busy having his organs relocated to different points in his body. Then he pulls himself free and gasps.“Catradora.” The words come out all strangled; he’s half sure his brain has moved around and is residing in his armpit. “They’re the thing. Never do that again, by the way, I can’t breathe.”“What are you talking about?”“Catradora. Ribs. Oh god, my ribs--”“Kyle,” Lonnie says, with all the violence and rage of a girl whose only source of gossip is what weapons were shipped in, and who blew up the dining hall this time, “who's datin’?”“Catra. And Adora. They’re the thing.”***Or:Catra and Adora are dating. Somehow Kyle is the only one who seems to notice.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Kyle/Rogelio (She-Ra)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 361





	kyle is not useless

**Author's Note:**

> basically my excuse to bully kyle. unbeta-ed and unedited because i am tired from my daily fist fight with god. title may change, open to suggestions.

Kyle is not  _ useless _ .

Sure, he’s had general mishaps, and he was voted ‘Worst Cadet of Year’ twice, but that doesn’t mean anything. He hasn’t destroyed anything too important, and the Force Captains haven’t made ‘Worst Cadet’ a permanent title. Being in the Horde is tricky, and Kyle is just a normal guy. He’s trying his best; it’s not even like he’s getting paid. 

The point is, Kyle has valuable skills, even if no one around can recognize and appreciate them. He can (unwillingly) be the bait, he’s incredibly good at ruining missions, and everything he touches ends up broken at some point. 

So sue him if the list is in progress. Or don’t, because he doesn’t have any money, and that would go worse than the time he got stuck in a chandelier. The  _ real _ point is that Kyle notices things. He  _ can _ be smart, and he’s picked up something incredible, something totally insane.

Catra and Adora are dating.

***

It starts when they’re just kids. Kyle doesn’t think of it much back then, how Catra and Adora are bonded at the hip. They eat together, play together, commit war crimes together, even sleep in each other’s beds. Kyle is too busy hiding from Shadow Weaver and trying to survive their training simulations to actually notice that the closeness may be more than friendship.

It’s not like he knew much about intimacy back then anyways--the Horde doesn’t teach Sex Ed, or how to identify personal relationships as more than just platonic, which he’s glad for. The thought of Shadow Weaver explaining how babies are made is enough to give him a panic attack. Still, he wishes that when asking about love, the response was something more than a snapped,  _ “don’t”. _

Kyle is seven when it first occurs to him that there’s something going on. He’s hiding under the bed to avoid going to class when Catra storms in. She’s crying and hissing, and he stiffens instantly. Anyone worth their salt has a good healthy fear of Catra, even if the Catra in question right now isn’t threatening at all.

She’s curled onto Adora’s bed and heaving with sobs--it’s a little pathetic, actually, which Kyle feels bad for thinking. He’s about to slip out and comfort her when Adora walks in.

“Catra? Catra, are you in here?” The sobs go quiet. Adora walks over and sits herself on the bed. “Hey. Catra. I’m here. What happened?”

“Shadow Weaver,” says Catra. It’s a bit strangled and she doesn’t elaborate; Adora curls her body around the lump under the sheets.

“Shadow Weaver’s a dumb face.” She’s also a dumb face with magical spying powers, so Kyle hopes she isn’t listening in _.  _ “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!”

“Catra.” Adora’s voice is measured. She peels the blanket back, and Catra ducks her head, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. “It’ll always be okay. I have you and you have me. Remember? I told you nothing bad can happen as long as we have each other. And we do. I’m here.”

Slowly, Catra’s head lifts. She keeps blinking like she expects Adora to disappear at any moment; Adora reaches out, takes her hand. A minute passes, and then two. “I’m here,” Adora repeats. “Don’t worry. I'm here."

They stare at each other for too long. Catra finally pushes herself up. “Race you to the cafeteria!” she says, and they skip out of the room, leaving Kyle confused and alone on the floor. He blinks at the ceiling, and then he shrugs, slides himself out. Girls are weird. Scary, but weird. Scaly lizard guys are much better. He should go see Rogelio now.

***

Years pass.

Adora grows older, taller, first at everything she does; a natural shoo-in for Force Captain with Catra trailing close behind. The girl always has one hand on Adora’s shoulder, but there’s a stiffness to her as Adora takes in the praise or is offered special treatment; a broken, bruised tension that makes it look like she never learned how to stand quite right. Catra fights with more violence than is required, fists her hands until she draws blood. The one time Kyle asks her about it, she hisses at him, flat out  _ hisses _ , which is why he has never tried to talk to her about emotions again.

Still, the question itches at the back of his mind. What is she trying to prove and for who is she doing it? Shadow Weaver? Adora? Kyle rubs his temples and watches from a distance. There’s another question too, but it lingers at the back of his mind. He only looks at it occasionally; a thought covered in dust.

***

They stay up whispering all night. Kyle can’t sleep anyways--he has too many nightmares about Shadow Weaver in a tracksuit--but the sound is grating against the rawness of his nerves. He pulls a pillow over his head, curls under the blankets, but Catra says something and Adora laughs too loudly. Eventually, there’s the sound blankets rustling, and then footsteps; Kyle pushes himself up to see the two of them making their way to the door. 

They’re still in the Horde-issued pajamas, grey shorts and t-shirts, and Catra clutches Adora’s hand. She’s laughing, eyes sharp with mischief, but Adora stares down at their interlocked fingers with an expression Kyle can’t name. Moments later, she blinks and it’s gone. They’re giggling again, slipping through the door. 

Strange. He goes back to sleep with the image in mind. Adora, wide eyed, like she had been shocked, and their hands. Fingers woven together like threads, fitting perfectly. Like they were made to go together.

Kyle rolls over and slides into sleep.

***

“I’ll always be there for you, Catra.”

***

“Adora, it’s you and me against the world.”

***

Kyle walks in on Catra bandaging Adora’s leg. She sits between them, fingers gentle, as she wraps a line of gauze around the wound. Her hand grazes Adora’s knee and she looks up at the other girl. Her expression is so tender and soft and achingly vulnerable that he has to turn away. He’s never seen Catra like that before. He doesn’t . . . he doesn’t know if he wants to.

Adora laughs at something Kyle can’t catch and Catra smiles back back at her. The air is syrup thick and electric between them; Kyle feels like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. The final straw is when Catra reaches up and tucks a strand of Adora’s hair behind her ear; it’s the extent of what Kyle can handle tonight. 

He turns on his heel and  _ fucking _ runs. 

It’s not that he cares, particularly. He just can’t . . . he can’t watch that. It’s too intimate. The moment belongs to them and only to them; intruding would just be wrong. Kyle closes his eyes and slumps against where he’s sitting in the hallway. 

_ Feelings _ . Even those belonging to other people are such a mess.

***

He still thinks about it later, though. He tries to classify what it means; the soft eyes and tender hands and air between them, electric and aching like an exposed nerve. What Catra and Adora have is something unrecognizable and beautiful and entirely their own. Kyle thinks of Rogelio and feels the same way.

***

He realizes what it is,  _ finally _ realizes, when he’s seventeen. It probably says a lot to his observational abilities that it takes this long to pick up on something so obvious. But, well, no one ever said Kyle was smart.

The day it happens they’re sitting in the cafeteria. Catra is going off on her regular rant about Shadow Weaver and Kyle is just trying to eat in peace. The food leaves him sick to his stomach but it’s still better than nothing; he swallows, feeling like he’s in pain, and then turns to Catra.

“I don’t get how she can treat us like this.” Catra pushes her cup off the table. Kyle doesn’t know why everyone gives him such a hard time for that same thing. Catra’s broken at least half the glasses in the Horde and no one even points it out. He’s worried she has some war waged on the knicknacks that she knocks over at random, and how of course, he,  _ Kyle _ , is going to be blamed for her murder of innocents. If knicknacks can even be considered innocent. Nothing in the Horde truly is--even the spoons have a certain sister glimmer to them, like they’re just waiting to be used as deadly weapons. “It’s ridiculous! Shadow Weaver abuses  _ me _ , and  _ I’m _ the bad guy? How is that fair?” 

She’s breathing heavily. Kyle pushes his plate, still half covered in ration bars, in her direction, and she sweeps it off the table. 

“Thanks Kyle, I needed that.”

“Hey.” Adora makes her Hero ™ face . “It if there’s some way we can make Shadow Weaver own up—“

“We can’t. She’s in charge of this place. It’s hopeless.”

Catra places her head down on the table and groans. Adora rests her hand on her exposed shoulder a moment later, and rubs a circle with her fingers. 

Kyle tenses. Touching Catra without her permission has an 93% fatality rate--there are horror stories about it, told by Force Captain Octavia, who had an eye scratched out when Catra was six. But Catra doesn’t attack Adora, or even flinch away. She curls up closer, tilting her head, and a sound emits from her chest. It’s a low, deep rumbling, almost like a purr.

Kyle’s in shock for a moment, but finally, he lifts his head up to Adora. She’s gazing at Catra, something wistful in her eyes; moments later she blinks and smiles, moving her hand to Catra’s neck. Her gaze is fond and a little aching, and she looks at Catra like she’s everything, and all of a sudden it hits Kyle like a lightning bolt. 

Well. He’s never been hit by lightning bolt, but saying hit by his own fist, or hit by a wall doesn’t have the same ring. The point of it is that Adora looks at Catra the way Kyle looks at Rogelio, or Shadow Weaver looks at danger and chaos; looks at with nothing less than full-out love.

They’re dating. Kyle is sure of it.

***

“They’re a thing.”

“No.”

Kyle waits for the words to register, as Lonnie’s default response to him is more of a matter of reflex than it is of interest. They must, because after a moment she looks up at him and gapes.

_ “What?” _

“I told you--”

“Who? Who’s datin’?” She reaches out and shakes him. Kyle can’t get the words out for a minute, as he’s too busy having his organs relocated to different points in his body. Then he pulls himself free and gasps.

“ _ Catradora.” _ The words come out all strangled; he’s half sure his brain has moved around and is residing in his armpit. “They’re the thing. Never do that again, by the way, I can’t breathe.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“ _ Catradora _ . Ribs. Oh god, my  _ ribs-- _ ”

“Kyle,” Lonnie says, with all the violence and rage of a girl whose only source of gossip is what weapons were shipped in, and who blew up the dining hall this time, “who is datin’?”

“Catra. And Adora. They’re the thing.”

There are three seconds of silence. Then Lonnie bursts out laughing.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

***

No one believes him.

He confronts Rogelio (who just grunts), talks to the Force Captains, spills his thoughts to anyone who will listen. They all just laugh at him and shake their heads.

“That’s how it is with Adora and Catra. Ain’t nothing romantic about it, dumbass, now get back to your post.”

He’s beginning to rethink his theory, but right as he walks into the dorm, he sees them sitting on Adora’s bed. Catra gave up hers years ago, opting to sleep with Adora full time; it’s her space, now, more than anyone else's, a place where she can finally relax. Adora’s eyes are closed and Catra rubs circles on her back. She’s looking at her with the same expression Kyle saw on Adora this morning, fond and fierce and a little aching. He takes a step back.

Love, definitely. It can’t be anything else.

***

Kyle wants to do something about it. He does. Catra’s never been the sort of person to just sit there and feel her feelings, so he figures she could use some guidance, or at least a bit of advice. It’s not like she’d let the conversation happen though, and the thought of having it makes him shudder. It would take one, maybe two, sentiments about ‘stop it with the dramatic pinning and ‘start it with confessing your epic gay love’ before she’d be dragging his body away and leaving the Horde. Adora’s just as bad when it comes to feelings, but Kyle doubts she’d be likely to threaten his life.

Well, he hopes. But he needs answers, so after the next training session rolls around, he corners her in the locker room, takes a breath, and then spits the question out.

“ _ DoyoulikeCatra? _ ”

“What?” Adora looks up at him. Her hair has come loose and curls around her face, dark blonde and wavy, and clearly this must be some sort of sorcery, because the Adora he knows is as sharp as a tack. Maybe her hair has been holding her together. Maybe there is magic channeled by the hair poof. “Kyle, you okay? You’re looking kind of pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, great, really. About Catra.”

“Catra.” Adora mouth does something strange around the syllables, almost like she’s savouring them. Her eyes close and her lips quirk upwards into a smile. “What about her.”

“You. And her.”

“Yeah.”

“You and her  _ together _ .”

“Together,” Adora repeats dumbly. “Yeah. That happens.”

“So you like her!” 

Kyle’s practically ripping out his hair. Adora doesn’t seem to notice; she leans against the locker, crossing her arms.

“Of course I do. She’s a really good friend.” Adora’s eyes go far away. Kyle half wants to snap his fingers, to see if it would register, but she has reflexes that would leave him on his back. “Catra means a lot to me. We’re best--”

“Friends, yeah, I know. I mean,  _ like-like _ her. Like-like.” He stares into her face and tries to look as meaningful as he can.

“Yeah, of course I like her a lot. She’s amazing.” Adora frowns and then moves to open her locker. It’s as clean and organized as you’d expect from her; she can’t stand any sort of mess. “What are you talking about, Kyle? Is there something else you want to ask me?”

“Do you want to sleep with her?” 

This is a fine example on why tact is not his middle name--he doesn’t actually know his middle name, but tact can’t be it. Not unless his last name is -less. “Catra, I mean. Sleep. With. Her.”

Adora tilts her head. “What do you mean? I already do.” Kyle feels like cheering, or screaming, or at the very least, blowing something up, but then she adds, “you’re in the same dorm with us, Kyle. How do you not notice? She literally sleeps at the foot of my bed.”

“No! Not that! Are you and Catra--”

“Catra,” Adora repeats, yet again. “Oh! I was supposed to meet her! I’ll talk to you later, Kyle. Bye!”

She jogs away, and Kyle just stares for a moment before sinking down against a locker. His head aches, and he is so very confused.

“They’re dating and they don’t even realize they’re dating.” He huffs out a laugh. “God. And people call  _ me _ useless.”

***

He schemes and plots and tries to play matchmaker, but days later, the unthinkable happens.

Adora leaves the Horde.

***

Catra is hopeful at first. She is a lighthouse waiting for a ship to return to her, unaware that the harbor is empty and she has gone dark. Shadow Weaver sends her on mission after mission until that hope has faded from her eyes. She is colder, stronger; claws her way up to the title of Force Captain and wears the badge like a weapon. Kyle has always been wary of her, but he fears her now. 

***

They lose the battle of Bright Moon. They lose the next major ones too. There’s some incident with a portal, and more skirmishes than Kyle can count. Catra is distant, the familiar and loved shifting into someone cold and remote. Kyle is too afraid to talk to her, but sometimes, late at night, he can hear her crying.

_ Adora _ , he thinks.  _ Why did you leave? _

***

Catra screams and tears at her hair and the war goes on. It’s too much for the three of them. They’re practically doubling over with exhaustion, shadows collecting under like bruises under their eyes. The spore storm is the last straw; Kyle, Lonnie, Rogelio start packing what few belongings they have afterwards, skin raw and aching from the burns. Catra doesn’t even seem to notice, just snaps for them to get back to their post. Kyle watches as she storms away and turns toward the Fright Zone. 

It was awful growing up here. The Fright Zone was a maze of twisted grey pipes and curls of smoke; food that left you sick to your stomach and a mess of limbs under your feet as you tried to climb your way to the top. Success always came at the cost of another person’s failure, and Kyle understands, finally, how Catra was so competitive. The memory of that place feels like a sickness he’s trying to sweat out, or a scar that’s still healing. The Fright Zone was twisted and violent and  _ awful _ , and there’s no recovering from that, Kyle knows, but maybe there is moving on. He doesn’t blame Adora for leaving. Not when it’s all he wants to do.

“Ready to go,” says Lonnie, holding out a hand. He takes it and inhales a breath.

“Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

***

They move from place to place. He dreams about Catra and Adora, and wakes up wondering how it could have gone so wrong.

***

Battles. Bots. Clones who look like Hordak but aren’t him. Kyle can’t make sense of it, so he doesn’t. He just tries to survive. Same as he always has. It’s the best he can do.

***

“At least I have you guys,” Kyle says to Lonnie and Rogelio, as Horde Prime’s face is projected in the sky. He closes his eyes tightly. They are in the middle of a war, but Kyle has found peace, and even better:

He has found a home.

***

They wait out the fighting. The three of them sit, huddled up against the wall, just like when they were children. Kyle’s head is on Lonnie’s shoulder and Rogelio curls his tail around them, and it’s silent except from the battle outside. The whole scene is so familiar it’s alien; childhood and the things that came with it, scraped knees and gap toothed smiles and expectations that didn’t fit quite right. Kyle mourns for himself in that silence, mourns for the child who had to grow up too quickly and the part of him that never grew up at all. It seems ridiculous to think about in the heat of the battle, but after being part of the war for your whole life, it takes up residence inside your head. Kyle has seen his fair share of horrors, and he knows that at some point, it stops registering. You become immune.

He wonders briefly if that’s what Catra did, if she cut her emotion out the same way one cuts out a bullet, and waited for the pain to numb instead of addressing the wound. The vital part of her that never quite healed after Adora left, shrieking and aching, until eventually, she learned to deal. Still broken, but broken in the way a body adapts to a pain after a while. Until it’s just there.

He must be shivering, horrified at the thought, because Lonnie asks him if he’s okay. He nods, says that he’s fine, even though he’s terrified, because he learned to keep his mouth shut.

Some of his emotion must still be shown on his face, because Rogelio reaches out and takes his hands. His fingers are smooth and scaly but surprisingly warm, and Kyle isn’t scared anymore, even if he can still feel his heartbeat. It thunders along, wild and pounding, louder than the cannons that light up the sky.

***

The unthinkable happens.

The war ends.

Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio are pardoned and granted asylum in a small town east of Bright Moon. There are guards that check the village monthly, but otherwise, they have complete freedom. Lonnie finds them an apartment that Kyle has only set fire to once (he’s trying, okay, stoves are difficult), and Rogelio works in a bakery. He wears a pink apron that says  _ Kiss The Chef,  _ which Kyle finds out is not meant to be taken literally when he tries and Rogelio backhands him across the cafe.

It's not the best start to their budding romance. Relationships are always work in progress, Kyle knows; Catra and Adora tried to kill each other more times than Kyle can count, which is only because he can’t count that high, and look at where they are now! He turns, quite literally, to where they sit, Catra in Adora’s lap, hands against her hair. They’re whispering, framed by sunlight, and laughing at something that Kyle can’t catch. Catra’s face is a startling contrast to what it was months back. She’s smiling, which Kyle startles at, unable to remember the last time he saw her do so. It makes him feel all sorts of awful, even if the Catra in question looks happier than he’s ever seen. Her short hair curls around her face and she sits loosely, not stiff and brittle with tension. Her hands rest on Adora’s shoulders, and she’ll stop every few moments to bump her forehead into the other girl’s. Which, yeah, is a little weird, but it must be a cat thing. He's plenty used to it.

Kyle turns away after a moment, because even if he knew they were a thing for years, there’s still a fragile, charged intimacy between them that he doesn't want to intrude on. It’s in the way Adora’s hand lingers as she goes to brush Catra’s hair from her face, or how Catra smiles, soft and fond and a little aching, as Adora speaks. They’re each other’s, completely each other’s, evident in every touch and movement.

It’s a beautiful thing to love someone like that, and Kyle wonders, with an ache in his chest, if he’ll ever mean something to Rogelio like that. 

Mean some besides extra clean up duties, that is.

“She’s happy,” he says, towards the counter, because it feels like something worth announcing. 

He doesn’t actually mean to voice it aloud though, so Lonnie looks at him and quirks one eyebrow up.

“What are you talkin’ about, Kyle?” 

“That.”

“And what would that be. . .”

Kyle pinpoints the exact moment she spots Adora and Catra, coffee cup falling from her hand. He manages to catch it, but the liquid is hot and spills across his fingers, causing it to fall yet again. He watches helplessly as it explodes into shards across the floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“Kyle.” Lonnie doesn’t seem to notice. “Catra and Adora . . . they’re actually . . .”

“Dating.”

“Oh my god. You were right.”

This is a moment that will probably never happen again, and it needs to be savored. Lonnie, her face in her hands, mumbling, “Kyle . . . Kyle was right,” Rogelio, gorgeous in a pink apron. And Adora and Catra, unable to take their eyes off each other. Kyle never expected much from life, never had a family except the cadets he grew up with, and a future that was uncertain at best. He looks around him, takes a breath, and inhales in.

It smells like friendship. 

It smells like home.

**Author's Note:**

> whew. poor kyle. hope you enjoyed. visit me on tumblr: https://hellcatspangledshalalala.tumblr.com


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